Requiem Reckoning
by mrs.salvatore39
Summary: Aftermath of Batman Inc #8, Catwoman #18, and Batman #18. Bruce is broken, both as a man and the Bat. Selina does her best to show him that the world is not completely dark and hopeless even now that his son is gone. SPOILERS and SMUT.


_a/n: it's been too long since I've been back in Gotham. I'm all caught up on my comics now. Between everything that's been going on with me lately *, finding the time to sit down and write has been difficult. In fact I'm sneaking in time as it is. The messy house around me is basically staring at me, but I just need to get some of this out. I feel if I don't I will go even crazier than I already am._

_*see author note for my fic 'Turn it Off'_

_p.s. if you are reading the New 52 then this fic takes place right after Catwoman #18 and Batman # 19 (I believe. I will explain all that's going on as best I can during the fic without being too boring, but all you need to know is that earlier in the night BatCat got in a particularly violent match and while Bruce is dealing with Damian's death and Selina is recovering from her own messed up crap, they are butting heads instead of coming together like they should._

BATCAVE, Beneath WAYNE MANOR

Batman let his gloved hands run over the once shiny helmet Catwoman had been wearing when he'd kicked her from her bike. The monitor next to him was dark now but he could still remember the news announcer telling the 'miraculous' story of the paintings being returned to their rightful place in the Gotham Museum. Why did he care so much about those damn paintings? Was it because since his son's death he'd been so desperately searching for something to hold on to, something to prove to him that this world was not a complete waste? Something to remind him of the way this world had once been? How he had once been. Last year for Damian's birthday they'd left the costumes at home and used the Wayne name to shut down the museum for a time. They were left completely alone and spent the time walking around, not really paying attention to the art so much as each other.

It had been a rare moment where he'd felt more father and son than Batman and Robin. And now he would never get to feel either again.

A bell rang and he briefly pressed a button on the board beside him, setting Catwoman's helmet out of view as Alfred came down the stairs. "You must eat sir." He said plainly, leaving the silver tray and turning to go.

He didn't bother to reject his old friend's offer and nor did Alfred stay to watch the soup go cold. Neither Bruce Wayne nor the Batman had eaten since that night. Neither Bruce Wayne nor the Batman had slept either.

SELINA KYLE's PENTHOUSE, GOTHAM CITY

Selina tugged off her light blue hoodie and kicked her worn brown runners to the side as she entered her apartment. Gwen had been there, but she wasn't any longer. Either she'd escaped and would get in touch as soon as she'd thought it was safe or she'd been taken. Part of Selina wanted to pull on leather and grab her whip and search for her friend, but the more dominate part of her, mostly the parts of her that ached forced her to collapse on her couch in little more than her black lace bra and skin tight black pants. To say she was uncomfortable was understament. To say she needed a shower was an even bigger one, but there was still a slight pounding to the back of her head, her cheek stung when she smiled or frowned and every cut or scrape on her body made her want to hiss in pain. As if sensing her distress, Isis leaped on the couch and pushed her hand beneath Selina's tired hand. She was thankful her new gloves had not been ruined in her earlier fight with Batman, so her hands were free from most injuries however it was her heart that hurt the most.

She wished she hadn't left him so quickly. Yes he'd hurt her, both her body and her mind. Maybe even her spirit but she done the same to him. There was something different about the man that she'd encountered tonight. And it wasn't that she wasn't aware he was her Batman. She'd seen a few others possess the cowl on nights for reasons she still did not know, and without minutes she could spot he was not her Batman, but this time; this man…he was broken. Perhaps he didn't know it, or perhaps he didn't want to except it, but he needed someone and she'd just left him there. She'd allowed her pride to get in the way and she'd jumped on her bike and rode away. No, she didn't want promises from him or movie dates. She just wanted to know that the man behind the mask; her Batman…that he was alright.

WAYNE MANOR

Alfred left the kitchen with just the tiniest smile at the corner of his mouth. He couldn't stand to fully smile, not so soon after Master Damian's death, but the fact that Bruce had eaten at least a bit of the soup gave him hope that not all was lost. The house was quiet now, so much quieter than he wanted it to be. No screams of triumph from the third floor bedroom as the young boy had succeeded at beating another of those terribly violent games, or loud music he'd been given from Dick to torture the house with. There was only silence, only darkness and it cooled Alfred's soul right to the core. Somewhere in the distance a phone rang and a new kind of chill settled over the house. On the third ring he knew that Bruce would not answer it and slipped into the nearest room to pick up the closest receiver. "Wayne Manor." Even his voice was quiet, he noticed and forced himself to stand straight. "Good evening."

"Alfred?" Barbra Gordon was on the other end. It sounded like she'd been crying, and for a long time. "Is Bruce there?"

Alfred sighed. "He is."

"May I speak with him…please?"

He could feel his heart break a little more as he shook his head. "He doesn't want to talk to anyone. He won't even talk to me."

Barbra was quiet for a long time and Alfred thought he might have heard Dick in the background. "Will you…can you just tell him…I…called."

"Of course Miss Gordon." Alfred hung up before he could hear the lady choke into another wave of sobbing tears. At least she was not alone.

* * *

Bruce Wayne looked in the mirror straightening his tie, barely recognizing his own face. He hadn't taken off the cowl for days. It felt more like weeks. His son was dead. The words were almost numbing now. He understood them, could process them, but he would not expect them. A woman he'd once cared for very much had turned her back on their son; _**his **_son. She'd lost the right to claim Damian as hers when she allowed the League of Assassins to do what they do best. And for what? He was just a boy…just…a boy. Now Bruce glared at his reflection. Yes, a boy he'd allowed to don a cape and a mask and run around the city. A boy that had been trained and shown the ways of violence, the ways of truth. And for what? To simply die at the hands…no Bruce could not think about that now. Could not think about his son's body or the state that, the…._monster_ had left him in.

A monster by the very own makings of Tahlia. The woman that claimed to love him, that claimed to love both the Batman and the man beneath. It wasn't comfort that he wanted, it was vengeance and for the first time in a long time he considered murder. The Joker had come and gone from his life again, had threatened every last one of the people he loved and yet he'd never really believed he could finish him off, but now with the loss of his son and the purest form of hatred and grief he'd ever felt he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop should she ever cross his path again. It wasn't vengeance that he was going to get tonight, it was comfort and he knew just where to find it, and where to give it.

SELINA KYLE's PENTHOUSE

The knock at the door startled Selina and she glanced quickly toward the drawer that held her gun. Whoever it was that had come for her had chosen the wrong night to do it. Slowly she pushed herself from the couch, slipping the gun into the back of her tights before looking through the peep hole. She was shocked to see Bruce Wayne's ashen face looking right back at her. Of course he couldn't see her, and she hadn't made a noise so how could he have even known she was home, but there was something about those eyes that had her unlocking the door and turning the knob, thanking the gods that she'd tossed on an oversized white tshirt when she'd gotten up to pee half an hour ago. "Mr. Wayne, may I help you?"

"Excuse me Miss Kyle, but I was wondering if I could speak with you."

She'd seen him at parties, once on the street, many times from afar but they'd never said more than the polite casual greetings basic strangers force out to keep up with politically correct manners. "Um, of-of course." Selina despised it when she stuttered but stepped back and allowed the billionaire to enter her penthouse. Things could be worse, she could still be living in the run down, one room flat with the broken screen over the window and a tv that cracked with static. "What can I help you with?"

The man looked like he needed a drink and she'd watched him enough to know that he liked whiskey. She led him into the kitchen and didn't offer but simply began putting ice in a glass and reaching into the cupboard that was her liquor cabinet for the best she could find. He was quiet for a long time, his large hands splayed across her lightly colored marble island counter top. His hands were shaking slightly and she briefly wondered if he was afraid. Honestly, she was the one that should be afraid. A lot of weird things had happened in her life, especially in the last few days thanks to that fucked up Black Diamond of Hell and getting beaten the shit out of by the one man she'd thought she could trust. Well, at least now she could trust him to be as untrustworthy as the others. Yet here she was, standing in the kitchen, sliding a glass of whiskey over to Bruce Wayne. "Thank you." His voice was low, gruff and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"A girl must do what she can to welcome a surprise guest." She hoped the slight deter of attitude would snap him into telling her what he was doing here, but he only looked down at the glass as if he was contemplating it's existence. "Mr. Wayne?"

He reached for it then, slowly at first and lifted the glass to his nose. He gave a sniff of the amber liquid and then downed it completely in one gulp. When his eyes finally met hers again she stiffened. It was that same look that had her opening the door. He set the glass down with a loud clunk and came around the island to pull her into his arms. She froze, not hugging him back but not pulling away either. She expected her survival instincts to kick in and force him away but there was something familiar about the way his arms felt around her. Something familiar about the way his breath smelled, other than her liquor he'd just drunk. "I'm sorry about earlier Selina." He whispered and pulled back just slightly to run his thumb lightly over the bruise on her cheek and the cut he'd left from when he'd hit her.

She didn't flinch from the pain his touch caused, she was too busy trying to swallow her heart back down into her chest. Bruce Wayne, the man before her…this was her Batman? She felt rooted to the ground, like a house had fallen on her, like if he let her go she would simply collapse. Then her arms were around his neck and she was kissing him. "I'm sorry I left you standing there." She whispered, holding him tightly against her.

She didn't know what it was that was killing him from the inside out, and at the moment she didn't need to. When the kiss ended and he pulled away once more she kept her hands tight on his arms, wondering if he was going to run from her this time. It was all they seemed to do, run and chase and kick and scream at each other. This was different though, there were no masks here. Hardly any secrets. This was the man that had haunted her nights and her days, the man that the Joker had been so afraid of, the man she'd told his greatest enemy that she did not love. Her pride had gotten in the way that night, as it had earlier but she wouldn't let it come between them again. They did not speak, and he didn't protest when she took his hand and pulled him from the kitchen, through the living room and into the bedroom. Carefully she undid his tie, taking the time to admire his gray suit. She'd only seen him in black before. His black Batman and the black tuxes Alfred forced him into for those stuffy parties he never stayed very long at. The suits he wore to the office were nearly always black, so she found the grey refreshing.

His tie was silk, as was the lining of the jacket, but she didn't dwell on that too much as she slipped it from his wide shoulders and lay them both over the back of a chair. Next, she sunk to her knees and undid his shoes, tugging his socks off with them and setting them next to the end of her bed. It was almost one am and the man looked like he hadn't slept in ages. She knew how comforting her bed could be and let her fingers hover over the buckle of his belt, her bottom lip between her teeth. She didn't want him to think that she was seducing him, but it was clear that he needed someone to take care of him, someone that was not affected by whatever it was that was haunting those beautifully damaged blue eyes. When his belt was dangling from the chair as well he held her hands before she could undo his pants. She conceded and stepped back, watching him slip them down his hips, then step out of them gracefully.

For someone so tall, so big, so strong he always moved with stealth and grace. Even as the Bat he was never without it. She glanced at his scarred back as he walked to lay the pants across the seat of the chair, noticing the black shorts he wore beneath were the same that he wore beneath the suit. She'd made love to that body before, well not really. They'd only really ever fucked. It had always been intense, incredible, passionate, but it had nearly always been violent. He pinched, she bit. He bruised and she scratched. One time she'd even willingly let him handcuff her on a rooftop. That had been heart stopping, but when he turned back to look at her, she had a hard time imaging that this man and that one were the same. She held out her hand to him again and led him over to the bed, pulling the covers back from the side she didn't sleep on and waiting for him to get in.

When he was she stepped back and clasped her hands together in front of her for lack of anything better to do. It felt odd not to be fighting with him. "Selina, I…"

She shook her head and stepped back. "Just rest. I'll be back."

* * *

Bruce didn't blame her for escaping to the shower for a few minutes to compose her thoughts. He was only glad that she hadn't run. Was he doing the right thing, coming here? Was he making a mistake showing her his true face, opening up to her about everything…absolutely everything? She was a thief after all, and just because she'd put the paintings back did not mean that she could be trusted and yet here he was, laying in her bed between silk sheets wondering if she was ever going to shut the water off and come back to him. Eventually her shower ended and he could hear her moving around behind the closed door. The water ran in the sink as she brushed her teeth and the hair dryer went for a few minutes. She was stalling, and he knew it. Was she afraid of him? Could that be possible that the woman he'd known for so long was more afraid of him out of the cowl than in it? He supposed that at least with the mask and the armor she knew she could defend herself, she could strike against him, but now he was nothing more than a man, a hurting one at that. And she probably knew nothing more about fixing a broken heart than he did.

When the bathroom door opened and the light brought back a bit of life to the room he sat up in her bed and looked at her. She had shred the big top and tight pants for a dark red silk nightgown and bare feet. He could smell the vanilla body wash from where he was and in a gesture that shocked them both he pulled back the covers, inviting her into her own bed. "Selina?" he asked when she hesitated in the doorway.

"I can sleep on the couch." Her offer was quiet, a little nervous but he shook his head.

"I came here because I can't sleep, not alone. Not tonight."

She nodded and came forward, slipping in next to him, rolling onto her side so she could face him. He slid back down so his head was level with hers against the pillow. "Do you want to talk about it? I know there is something going on."

"I don't want to talk right now." She knew that voice, the Batman voice. He wasn't Bruce Wayne at the moment. He knew what he wanted and it was her. Her body, her comfort, her familiar love. Love, if that's what you could call it.

She moved over to him, crawled on top of him and pressed every inch of her that she could against him. He relaxed into her touch, pulling her face up so he could look at her through the darkness. The only light into the room was the twinkling of the city that invaded their abyss through the window. This moment was not completely theirs but neither of them cared. For the first time he didn't scan the night sky for the BatSignal. He didn't pray there was something going on in the dirty streets of Gotham so he could go down and beat someone near to death. He just looked into her eyes and together they shared a silent agreement. She only held him close and let him bury himself inside her, search for the comfort and compassion she could tell he so desperately needed. She wasn't sure why he'd come to her for it, but she didn't speak much more than whisper his name as they made love.

His hands ghosted over her skin, his touch so gentle she barely recognized it was him. They didn't switch positions or battle for dominance as they'd done before. Every moment was very deliberate this time, each moment a heartbeat as she did what she could to bring him back to her. Bring him back from the despair and anger that was eating him alive. She moved against him when he could not and he kept her going when she was nearly too exhausted from this different passion to try. Rather than enemies they were partners and for the first time in a long time she didn't feel completely alone. Eventually they did climax together, and sweat covered their bodies but it wasn't the intense orgasms she was used to experiencing with him. It was different, but it shook her to the core no less.

When it was over and her shaking limbs were still once more she tried to move from him but he grunted and tightened his arms around her. They were quiet for a long time until she set her chin on her hands and looked up at him from the spot where she rested on his chest. Very slowly he took a shattering breath, his hands gripping her so tightly she knew she'd have more bruises in the morning even though they'd been gentle for the past hour. "My son…is dead."

She stayed very still for a few moments, looking at his face and then she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. She said nothing, because there was nothing to say. No amount of apology could bring his Robin back to him, all she could do was be there and show him he was not alone in this big bad city.

_a/n: the smut isn't really that 'whoa' for this story and not a lot of my stories are really that graphic anyway but I felt for this one, because Bruce is so damaged (and to be honest, Selina isn't that much better off), their night together was more about the emotion._

_One never knows what's going to happen in the DC universe, and while I don't think it will be anytime soon I do believe Damian will come back. One way or another._


End file.
